


War--War Never Changes

by SilenceIsGolden15



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo 2k18 [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood, Diplomacy, Fantastic Racism, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Prompt: Stabbing, Protective Team, Stabbing, peace talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: It was supposed to be a peace summit, to unite four planets into an alliance against the Galra. But as usual, something goes wrong. Everyone always has a problem with the Galra paladin.





	War--War Never Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Yes i know the title is terrible don't @ me.

The queen marched her way down the white marble hallway of her palace, entourage at her heels. She had left her guests to stew for awhile in the meeting room the way each of them had done at one of the previous meetings on their own home planets. This would be the last of four before the Voltron peace talks, before the four planets of their system would be allies for the first time in thousands of decaphoebs, all in the hopes of defeating the Galra. 

That is, until today. Until her spies had finally uncovered the truth.

She strode grandly into the meeting room, her servants opening the doors for her with a flourish. The other three leaders sitting at the circular table straightened their backs at her entrance as she approached her chair. But she didn’t sit quite yet-- she instead stood beside it. Her lower pair of arms clasped behind her back, her middle grasped her ornate Balmera crystal scepter, and her upper crossed over her chest. The body language of the Kanar was legendary for it’s complexity: in this case displaying power, authority, and anger. 

“Friends,” She began, her tone indicating they were anything but, “Today we were meant to gather to finalize the plans for the Voltron peace talks. However, I come to you today with the final proof that the Voltron Coalition is nothing more than a trap set by the Empire to root out rebellion.”

To her left, Queen Llathel openly rolled her three gleaming silver eyes. One of her six fists tightened, but for now she ignored the blatant disrespect. 

“My contacts have uncovered one of Voltron’s secrets-- their Red Paladin is an active member of the Galra organization, the Blade of Marmora.”

Llathel shook her head, dark hair swishing around her equally dark shoulders at the gesture. 

“Qilnari, we haven’t come here to hear things we already know. Voltron has made no secret of its affiliation with the Blade of Marmora.”

Qilnari gave her fellow leader a ruthless grin. “Yes, but in order to be an active operative you must have Galra blood.”

She stood triumphantly in the silence, waiting for their reactions. Opposite Llathel, Queen Allisande was rapidly blinking her eight black eyes, wringing her little red hands, but saying nothing. King Illithan on the other end of the table remained silent as well, though he rolled his broad purple shoulders, decorated in green tattoos, and suppressed a sigh.

Llathel didn’t bother to hide hers as she got to her feet, sparkling silver robes contrasting beautifully against her skin, bits of jewels catching the light. 

“I don’t see how this is relevant.” She said in her careful tinkling voice. “Blood does not determine morality, and if we are to accept the Blade of Marmora as allies, why not the Paladin?”

Qilnari scoffed at her without restraint. “Bold of you to assume I accept the Blade of Marmora.”

Llathel’s jaw tightened, just a bit, diplomacy the only thing holding her back from expressing her frustration. 

“Tell me, how are we to believe they wish to overthrow the Galra Empire when one of their own  _ is  _ Galra?”

“Enough, Qilnari.” Illithan did not rise from his chair, but his tone was exasperated enough to compensate. “You’ve been fishing for a reason to stop the alliance since the beginning. But Voltron has been nothing but open and trustworthy.”

Little red Allisande chirped a bit, still wringing her hands. 

“I don’t know,” She twittered, “I’ve seen Galra halfbreeds before, they’re so… volatile. Even if they are trustworthy, there’s no telling what creatures like that will do next.”

“It would be foolish to put us all at risk from the Galra based on nothing more than prejudice and rumors.” Llathel’s voice was cold and sharp. “If you wish to withdraw, simply say so and we will host the Paladins on one of our planets instead.”

For a moment all Qilnari could do was stand there and gape in a distinctly unqueenly fashion. Surely she wasn’t serious. Surely they saw the danger inherent in trusting anyone with even a drop of Galra blood. 

But Llathel wasn’t budging, and Illithan and Allisande didn’t seem too keen on going through the effort to call off the talks. So she closed her eye, breathed deep, and straightened her back. 

“Very well.” She said as mildly as she could. “I trust your judgement. Let us proceed.”

Illithan sent her a suspicious glance, but Llathel merely looked relieved as they sank into their seats. 

But Qilnari, even as she made the plans for the Paladins to stay on her own planet, was planning something very different.

If none of the others were willing to address the threat within their midst, she would have to. 

* * *

They’d only been off the Castleship for a few minutes, and already sensory overload was hitting Keith hard. The sun in this system was bright enough that it actually stung his eyes for a few seconds when they’d stepped out, and a huge crowd of cheering aliens surrounded the Castle and the picnic ground that had been erected in front of it. On the right side of the entrance to the park was a band full of unfamiliar (and very loud) instruments, while their four hosts and their servants stood on the left.

Keith instinctively moved to cross his arms, only for Shiro to catch his elbow, reminding him that he was in fancy clothes at an important occasion where one of the alien species was big on body language and he couldn’t close up like a clam. So, as they reached the bottom of the Castleships ramp, he forced himself to relax. 

The leaders of the four planet system approached, the band and the crowd alike going silent. 

“Greetings, Paladins.” Said the first alien, a regal looking dark skinned woman in ornate silver robes. She blinked her three eyes at them ponderously. “I am Llathel, queen of the Ollande, and I welcome you most warmly to our system.”

Before Allura could begin her scripted response Llathel was stepping back, allowing the next leader forward to greet them. This one was tall, nearly a foot taller than Shiro, with lavender skin and fel-green tattoos over his bare chest. He inclined his head respectfully to them.

“I am called Illithan. I rule the Illidor.”

The next was the exact opposite: even shorter than Pidge, bright red with eight black eyes ringing their head, who seemed to be in a permanent state of anxiety. Much like a chihuahua. A demon chihuahua.

“Queen Allisande.” She introduced in a nervous chirp. “Of the Drathxi.”

Finally was their real host, the tallest of them all, the Queen Qilnari. She rightly assumed they already knew her name and stood patient, cool and calm, as Allura recited her gracious introduction, and all the Paladins stared in fascination, both at her and at the other aliens. The Queen’s skin almost appeared white, but sparkled blue when the bright sunlight hit her at just the right angle. She had only one eye and three pairs of arms, one of which was holding a scepter made of what looked like pure Balmera crystal. Another pair of arms was clasped pleasantly before her in a mirror of Allura’s stance, but the third were clenched into fists at her sides.

Keith took all of this information in and more, casting his gaze over the park and noting exits and easy entrances, places where security would be lax. He couldn’t help it-- he was paranoid normally, but he hadn’t been allowed to bring his knife and its absence made him that much more anxious about attacks. 

“It is an honor to receive you, Princess.” The Queen said in her saccharine voice, making Keith snap back to attention. She took a step down their line and nodded next to Shiro. “Black Paladin.”

She continued in this fashion, greeting each of them in turn and waiting for their nod of reply before continuing on, guessing the Paladin’s colors by the clothing Allura had stuffed them into. Keith was at the end of the line, and when she reached him she paused and cast her eye up and down, as though inspecting him.

“Ah, and you must be the Galra Paladin.”

All of them froze. He could feel each pair of eyes lasering in on him one by one like needles pinpricking, and his stomach twisted up and began to leak cold into his flesh. He bit the inside of his lip, struggled to find an answer, rubbed one arm awkwardly in an attempt to keep from crossing them. Finally, after several seconds of silence wherein the Queen stared him down like her last meal, Shiro cleared his throat.

“Keith is our  _ Red _ Paladin.”

Qilnari gave a tiny smile like a pocket knife. “My mistake,” she purred (which meant it was definitely not a mistake) and she turned to face the other rulers. “Shall we begin?”

Every single one of the others cast a backwards glance in his direction as they began to follow the aliens into the park, and Shiro hung back to walk alongside him. Keith could feel his hands shaking and shoved them in his pockets. 

“You okay?” Shiro murmured softly to him, to which Keith responded with a shaky breath.

“How did she know?”

Shiro shrugged, brow furrowing in concern. “I don’t know. And I’m not sure why she brought it up like that, either.”

Keith gnawed on his lip. 

“Are you uncomfortable? I can send you back to the Castle.”

He immediately shook his head, setting his shoulders back under Shiro’s stare. “No, that would look bad. I’ll be fine. Let’s just do this.”

“Alright,” said Shiro skeptically, “But tell me if that changes, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

_ No way in hell,  _ Keith thought to himself as they came up on the long table positioned before a stage. Allura had spent the last movement beating into them how important this alliance was for the war effort, how vital it was that they get these people on their side. If they were already side-eyeing him for being Galra, disappearing from the talks would only make it worse. He just had to grit his teeth and endure, like always. After all, it’s not like this was the first time he’d had to deal with this kind of reaction.

The Paladins lined up at their seats at the silver edged table, helpfully color coded, and waited for the indication to sit down. As luck would have it he wound up between Shiro and Coran, which meant he had absolutely no room to screw around or not pay attention. 

_ Great. _

The first thing on the agenda was a series of speeches, one from each of the leaders, and Keith resigned himself to staring a half inch past the person speaking while zoning out and pretending to listen. And for the most part this was a sound strategy. 

Llathel’s speech was long and meandering, taking well on a varga and a half. Illithan’s was much shorter, but he droned and it was hard to actually care about what he was saying. Then Allisande, who twittered and chirped for more than two vargas about absolutely nothing. By the time Qilnari climbed the steps of the stage Keith was practically asleep with his eyes open. 

Her speech changed that.

Hers wasn’t so much a speech as it was a rant; she went on and on about the destruction caused by the Galra Empire across the universe, detailing what seemed to be a list she had compiled. And it was a little thing, but he couldn’t help noticing that she never said ‘Galra Empire’ the way the others had. It was always just ‘The Galra’, and maybe he was being paranoid, but she seemed to glance his way everytime she said it.

By the time her speech finished and they took a recess for lunch, Keith was a nervous wreck. The throng of various lower-ranked dignitaries that swarmed around them was too much-- he felt like he could feel every gaze burning through his skin. He wasn’t hungry, in fact the idea of food made him distinctly nauseous, so instead of heading for the crowded buffet table he turned towards a quiet corner.

“Keith!” Called Shiro before he could get there, and he froze, shoulders pulled taut. Thankfully Shiro didn’t touch him, he could recognize the signs, and stood back a respectful distance while he spoke. 

“Hey, how are you doing?”

He shrugged stiffly, and Shiro failed to hide his frown. 

“The offer to go back to the Castle is still open.”

“No.” He murmured, almost too quiet to hear. “I’ll be fine. Just need to… settle.”

Shiro let out a sigh. “Alright. Find me if you need me.”

His corner, the intersection between two pink shrubs, was his own little slice of heaven as far as Keith was concerned. It was shaded from the bright sun, far enough away from the people to be mostly quiet, and most importantly had no one else near it. He stood there for several minutes, breathing deeply and trying to calm himself down without the added security of his knife or jacket. 

He couldn’t get the look on Qilnari’s face out of his head. Cold, polite, disdain hidden just underneath the surface. Just like Allura’s had been back when they’d first found out about his heritage.

“Red Paladin?”

He started and spun to his right to face his sudden intruder. It was one of the Illidor-- a tall, lean, purple man with neon blue hair. He was hovering a few feet away with a glass of something in his hand, and he sipped at it delicately as Keith narrowed his eyes at him.

“Can I help you?” His voice was still too quiet, but it would just have to do. 

“No.” He said, making Keith’s eyebrows rise. “But I can help you.”

“With what?” Keith could feel the irritation rising in his chest already and had to fight hard to keep himself from snapping. 

“Just a warning from the king.” He answered almost carelessly, watching the liquid in his glass as he stirred it. “His Majesty recommends you watch your back-- most of us are willing to ignore your Galra blood, but not all.”

Keith gulped, and this time he couldn’t resist crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I know.” He muttered back. “I can take care of myself.”

The mysterious man raised his hands in surrender. “Never said you couldn’t. Just a warning.”

He grumbled to himself but still nodded to the man anyway before he turned. When he did he was surprised to see one of the Drathxi standing nearby, several yards closer than anyone else had been a minute ago, and the little red tinged person flushed when he met their many eyes and they darted away. 

His stomach churned. Something was wrong. 

For a long moment he considered going to Shiro, but at that moment they were all summoned back to the negotiation table and he decided against it. If he was still anxious by the time the next break rolled around he’d mention it. Maybe by then it would have faded. 

When they returned to their seats, Queen Qilnari mounted the stage first, motioning for them to remain standing, and launched into another speech. Keith gripped the back of his seat until his knuckles turned white. 

Something was off. At either end of the row of chairs was a Kanar guard where there had been none before, and he just so happened to glance at one just as they let another Kanar in a servant’s uniform slip by them, heading in his direction from Coran’s side. Tension built in his chest. 

With every step the person made closer to him he warred with himself. He didn’t want to raise a false alarm and ruin the alliance if he was just being paranoid, but the look on the servants face was so focused, his one eye narrowed in concentration, and all the looks he’d been getting from the Queen were running through his mind and he could still feel the crawl of eyes on him. 

“Shiro.”

* * *

Keith whispered his name, and for a moment Shiro ignored him, trying to be diplomatic and focus on Queen Qilnari’s speech. But then he whispered it again, more urgently, and Shiro barely glanced to the side. 

“What?”

Keith opened his mouth, but all that came out was a rush of air as one of his hands rose to grip at Shiro’s shoulder. Faintly he felt the brush on his back as someone slipped by him, but his attention was lasered in on Keith’s sudden grimace. 

“Keith?”

“I--” His other hand went to his side. After a second he peeled it away and turned it palm up, and Shiro’s heart thumped to a hard stop when it appeared coated in red. “What--”

His knees crumbled and Shiro scrambled to catch him and lower them both without hurting him, and the Queen abruptly stopped her speech as the paladins let out cries and crowded around. A ripple of confused and concerned murmurs went through the spectators but Shiro wasn’t even listening anymore because he’d pulled Keith’s jacket aside to reveal that his shirt was red but it wasn’t supposed to be red it was  _ supposed  _ to be white. 

“Shiro?” Allura asked in a low, sharp tone. “What’s going on?”

He gulped, and somewhere between that breath and the next his brain switched entirely. It went out of Concerned Brother mode and right into Soldier, and when he answered Allura his voice was strong and clear.

“Keith’s been attacked.” A surprised yelp went through the crowd, but Shiro was completely focused on Allura’s expression, which had twisted into horror. “Stabbed, I think. He’s going to need a pod right away.”

Astoundingly, Allura wasn’t the first one to respond. Instead it was Llathel, launching from her own seat and loudly ordering her guards to secure the perimeter.

“No one gets in or out that isn’t one of the paladins, do you hear me?”

The Ollande guards scattered quickly to do their duty as Illithan ordered one of his men to fetch a stretcher as quickly as possible.

“Coran,” Allura was saying as Shiro stripped off his jacket, “Go to the Castle as quickly as you can and get a pod ready, we’ll follow with Keith.”

“Right away, Princess.” Coran was pale and grim and rushed off without another word. 

Having folded his jacket into a pad, Shiro quickly pressed it over the wound on Keith’s side and applied pressure. Keith didn’t react much besides his head turning on the grass. 

“Pidge, come here and lift his feet up.” 

Pidge immediately dropped to her knees in the grass and hoisted Keith’s legs into the air, draping them over her shoulders. Lance dropped beside her though doesn’t touch, hands up and fiddling by his collarbone as though he wants to help but doesn’t know how. Hunk was still in his seat, turned sideways and staring with shocked tears in his eyes as he looked on. 

“Shiro?” Keith was looking at him now, eyes wide and cheeks far too pale. His eyes darted down. “Lotta blood.”

“Yeah.” Shiro choked out. “But it’s gonna be ok. You’re gonna be fine.”

Keith’s head fell back to stare at the sky, deceptively calm overhead. None of them notice as the Queen slipped off of the stage. 

“What did I do?” He mumbled. Behind him Hunk let out a sob. “I didn’t…” His hand came up to Shiro’s shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint on his shirt as he grasped. “Shiro?”

“Lance.” Said Shiro, barely swallowing back tears. “Switch with me.”

“What?” Lance obeyed but clearly didn’t know what to do as he took Shiro’s position, allowing the other to move up and cradle Keith’s head and hold his hand. 

“Keep pressure on the wound.” Shiro instructed, and Lance’s jaw clenched in determination. He braced his elbows and leaned on the wound, only for Keith to suddenly squirm and let out a choked cry of pain. 

“L-lance!” He stuttered, and Shiro was alarmed to see a tear or two leak out of the corners of his eyes. The pain was starting to set in. “Stop! St-stop, it h-hurts--”

Lance looked to Shiro, panicked. “Don’t stop, Lance.” 

Keith whined at that and Shiro squeezed his hand.

“I know,  _ otouto,  _ I know it hurts. Just a little longer.”

Shiro held him still as best he could and counted down the seconds. By the time the stretcher got there the improvised bandage was soaked in blood and everyone was in tears, including Keith, who was sobbing and still begging Lance to stop pressing on him. 

The Illidor who came bearing the stretcher tried to be the ones to put Keith on it, but Shiro shoved one out of the way and death glared at the other until he backed off, determined not to let anyone else touch Keith. 

“Hunk, help me lift him.”

One thing could be said for all the Paladins: they could follow orders, even when they were in complete hysterics. 

Within thirty seconds of the stretcher arriving they were on their way to the Castle, Shiro and Hunk carrying the stretcher while Lance and Pidge trotted alongside them. Allura trailed behind, ignoring the calls of the other leaders. 

Lance was still doing his best to keep pressure on the wound as they ran, with limited success. Pidge gripped Keith’s hand tightly on the other side.

“Stay awake.” She kept muttering to him. “Stay awake, you have to stay awake to see what I do to that bastard who did this, you hear me?”

Despite her efforts, Keith was unconscious when they reached the med bay. Coran had prepared the pod as he’d been ordered and the group wasted no time lifting him inside. It let out a beep as it sealed, and for a long, tense moment Coran stared at the screen.

Then he relaxed. 

“He’ll be ok.”

* * *

Hours later Shiro was still there, standing in the same place, still in his bloodstained clothes when Allura found him. She hesitated for a tick in the doorway, suddenly unsure now that she could see the tension holding him upright like a puppet on a string, but clenched her fists in her skirt and opened her mouth anyway.

“Shiro?”

He didn’t even look over at her. He merely let out a questioning grunt, never once taking his eyes off of Keith, frozen and serene in the cryopod.

“It’s a political mess down there. I would appreciate it if you’d come help me fix it.”

A pause.

“Sorry, Princess. Not this time.”

Allura blinked. That… was not the expected response. She took a few more cautious steps into the room until she noticed how Shiro is shaking. 

“Ah… is there…” She swallowed. “Something you’d like to talk about, Shiro?”

She didn’t expect him to take her up on her offer (he never had before) but this time he turned and looked at her. His eyes are like thunderclouds. 

“I don’t trust myself.” He began, stopping for a breath in the middle. “I don’t trust myself to go back down there and not hurt anybody.”

Oh.

“You’re angry.”

It wasn’t not a question, it was a statement of a fact, but Shiro nodded just the same. 

“I’m furious.” His voice was low and trembled with his rage, and Allura was shocked to find herself wanting to take a step back from him. If this was how he was in the arena, she understood how he earned his nickname. “He didn’t do anything to them. He didn’t even speak to them, and already they’d decided that he deserved to die. It’s not fair.”

“No,” Allura said, not knowing what else she possibly could say, “It isn’t.”

“Did you think that, Princess?” Asked Shiro, still in that deadly tone. “When you found out?”

Her first instinct was to immediately deny it, but for a second she held her tongue. Shiro didn’t want her to lie to him right now. He wanted the truth-- he deserved the truth. Him and Keith both. She comforted herself with the knowledge she could throw Shiro across the room if she had to before answering. 

“Once, yes.” The princess let the confession hang in the air for a long moment before continuing. “One night I was thinking about my father, and how he had been killed by Zarkon, and how his Lion was now being flown by someone who had Galra blood. At the moment, considering Keith’s death was… poetic. At the time it felt justified.” 

Shiro said nothing. 

“But when morning came I was ashamed of the thought, even though I still hadn’t mended things with Keith. It was awakening, in a way, to realize that despite how betrayed I felt, I still didn’t truly wish him dead.”

Shiro dragged in a deep breath, and slowly released it. The trembling slowed and eventually stopped, and all the while Allura stood there with him in silence.

“Thank you, Princess. For being honest.”

“Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Queen to verbally massacre.”

Shiro turned to her, and with a knife’s edge smirk, gave her a grateful nod. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My spellcheck absolutely hates this chapter.


End file.
